Freedom Would Be Lonely
by senseless
Summary: A third person is pulled alive out of Marius' dungeon alive, but barely. GwainOC Please read and reveiw because I need the help as this is my first fic
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters etc in this story apart from Jasmine. I assume people to have read this so I will not put a disclaimer on every chapter so this applies to all the chapters. Thanks to Amye for beta-ing, and also for correcting my awful punctuation.

Rating pg-13 but may go up

Again please review.

People say that when you are dying you see a light. By now I was very sure I was dying, so where the hell was the fucking light? I had been in the dark for going on two weeks now with only minimal food and water and unlike Gwen I had been at the whipping post for nearly the entire time. I suppose it was because they were angry at me for killing their friends. I had tried to stop them from getting Gwen, and the rest of her family and had killed a guard and a priest. Which I think might have pissed them off a little - and I have the lashes to prove it.

I kept ranting to Gwen about the oh-so illusive light and she was obviously trying to decide between laughing and thinking that I had gone completely off my trolley. She seemed to think that while I was still joking around there was still hope; so I just kept on joking. Every so often one of us would check on Lucan, who apart from the broken arm was doing better. This was simply because after the priest had broken his arm he had had an attack of conscience (if you can believe it) and given him a proper meal.

The priest soon became tired of and annoyed at my rambling and dragged me up to the post. They stripped my top off and started to drone on at me about my insolence, depravity, paganism blah, blah...but as soon as they actually started the torture, I could tell something was different. This time, they were actually going to try and kill me. I soon as I could between the necessary screaming I turned to get a look at the whip, and saw to my disgust they had gone and attached nails onto the end of it. Damn. Now the cuts they were making were deep, and I could tell I was losing a lot of blood. Slowly my vision turned to grey...and then to black. I slumped down, hanging from my hands.

I came around again about dawn, and found myself still hanging there. I kept losing consciousness, going from the chamber, which now for some odd reason was full of mist, into blackness, and then out again. It was suddenly ever so cold.

Later, in one of my half conscious periods, there was a huge commotion outside, followed by a load of banging, and suddenly our homely little torture chamber was full of people. I heard someone gasp "Oh Jesus", and thought _Damn. More Christians. I wonder how long it will be till they join in?_ One of the priests started mumbling on about 'The work of God'. I would have rolled my eyes if I hadn't gone back to puzzling about the amount of mist and how cold it was indoors these days. However, I was very interested when a man retorted emphatically,

"Not my god."

Ah ha. Pagans. This was what Gwen and I had been secretly hoping for, but had given up, thinking it not at all likely.

One of the villagers who had come in with whoever it was must have caught sight of me, because he promptly threw up. So very flattering. At that point everyone must have started looking at me because there were a load more muffled exclamations, along with the sound of someone being physically restrained from knocking the priests heads in. I could commiserate. I wanted to knock their heads in too. One of them threw his cloak over me, and cut me down. I fell on my back and promptly passed out from the pain.

Guinevere watched Gawain carry out her friend and hand her over to Dagonet, who seemed to be now acting as a healer. Guinevere hoped she would survive. She had made friends with Jasmine as soon as she arrived in their little village. She had tried to protect them when Marius' soldiers had come for them, and had kept her hopes alive in that miserable chamber. She was paying dearly for her kindness. She called out to Jasmine but got no answer.

"She's going to have a rough time of it" Arthur declared. "She's lost a lot of blood."

Guinevere turned back to the knight holding her, whom she had completely forgotten about in her concern for her friend.

"She deserves to live. Even in there she managed to make me and Lucan laugh, but they made her pay for that."

"She made you laugh?" the Knight asked, shocked.

"Yes," Guinevere smiled grimly. "And she yelled at the priests. She even killed one before we were put in there."

Gawain listened to this in silence. He hoped they hadn't broken her. He couldn't connect this description with the shivering, bloody little girl he had carried out of that hellhole. He found himself wishing she would survive, just so he could see if what the other girl said was true.

I started to drift in and out consciousness again once she was in the slightly warmer wagon. She awoke once to see a very interesting exchange between Gwen and Arthur, which for some reason ended up with Guinevere crying onto his shoulder. _It's a long time since she did that,_ I thought. _Good for her, though_. I also learned in this bit of wakefulness who had rescued us, and was shocked. Roman army people, North of the wall. They must be either very brave, or deeply stupid. Although judging by Arthur and Gwen the Sarmatians weren't in any danger. From the Woads, at least.

Another time I woke to find Dagonet bandaging my back, which was close on as painful as it had been to get the wounds in the first place. I had to bite on leather to stop myself from screaming

As promising as all this seemed for Jasmine, she started to shiver even more violently, and trips into the world of consciousness became more and more infrequent. She became very pale, and even her lips started to go blue. Dagonet split his time between trying to keep Lucan cool and Jasmine warm, and while Lucan slowly threw off his fever and cooled to normal temperature, Jasmine slowly got colder and colder. At night, he made regular trips into the wagon to check on the injured, and while Dagonet could report good progress with two, he said he would be amazed if Jasmine was still alive tomorrow.

"I just can't keep her warm enough," he confessed to Gawain, frustrated. "She's going to die, just because I can't find a way to keep her warm!"

"No she's not," said Gawain decisively, stripping off his outer clothing as he spoke

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Warming her up," he said sliding in beside her. Dagonet's face brightened.

"That might actually work."

For the first time in several hours Jasmine moved, snuggling up to the newfound warmth beside her, and laying her head on Gawain's chest.

"That definitely might work," said Dagonet, suddenly sounding a lot more cheerful.

Gawain lade his head back on the furs, the fast pace of the ride to Marius' house and the shock of what they found there finally catching up with him, and finally fell asleep. When Bors next poked his head into the wagon he nearly fell off his horse.

Review Please


	2. chapter two

Thank you to Lykairo, Blues eyes at Night, MorgannaJ, BillieLiv, and Satine19 for reviewing I'm glad you liked it. I will try to update quickly.

When I next awoke I felt a hell of a lot better. Looking around me, I saw Gwen sitting up at the back of the wagon looking worriedly at me, but she started to grin when she saw me looking awake and alive.

"Wow," she said. "You look better."

"Yeah, I feel better than I have in ages."

"You might want to thank the man you're lying on top of!" Gwen cackled.

I looked down, not sure what she was talking about.

"Ahh!" I started, very surprised. Gwen and Dagonet burst out laughing. "What the _hell_ has my subconscious been doing while I was asleep? Though by the looks of it, it has good taste!"

"Jasmine..." Gwen admonished me. Dagonet was still laughing, obviously very amused. "Don't be so dirty! He got in there to warm you up! He saved your life!"

"Well, I'm very grateful to the hot man then," I replied, looking down at him with new interest. He certainly was hot. He had long blond hair and beard and a handsome face. At that moment he started to stretch and, feeling the extra weight on his chest, opened his eyes in surprise. To my great pleasure they were bright blue. He looked up into my green eyes with such a startled look I laughed. Suddenly, a look of recognition entered his eyes.

"You look better," he said.

"Thanks to you and Dagonet," she replied smiling.

"It wasn't me so much," he replied modestly. "All I did was get some extra sleep."

"Stop being all noble! You saved my life!"

"No, I didn't..."

"Yes you did!"

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Dagonet," she whined, "didn't he save my life?"

Dagonet's answer was to roar with laughter.

"What's so funny?" I asked Gawain, who was now also laughing. "What?" I wheedled, confused. "What? I don't get it!"

"No, you never do Jasmine. That's partly why is so funny!" said Gwen, still giggling.

By this time I had sat up indignatly so I could argue better, and just so happened to straddling the hot man. He had lain back down again, laughing hard with his hands on my thighs. Now from Gwen's position this looked a little bit wrong, which was making her giggle even more. When Bors poked his head through the gap in the tent, however, he looked at us in such a way to make me realise what I was doing and start to blush.

"Gawain, she's barely awake yet and look what you're doing! Have you no shame?" he joked.

"We weren't..." Gawain and I replied in unison, but it was drowned out by the laughter coming from all around us.

"I've not been doing anything to the hot man!" I insisted. _And did I really just say that?_ "Well," I corrected, to more howls of laughter, "it's not my fault. No one has even told me his name yet!"

"You don't even know his _name!_ I despair at you," said Bors, shaking his head despairingly. He closed the flap on his way further up the column.

Thirty seconds later Arthur opened the flap, and upon seeing us raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't do it!" I said immediately which set everyone off into fresh peals of laughter. I put my head in my hands and wished I could disappear.

Once Gawain (which I eventually learned was his name, but even so I was still having trouble not just calling him hot man,) had left I slept for the rest of the afternoon, and when I woke I was surprised and extremely pleased to find Gwen offering a hot bath. Dagonet took my bandages off so I had a chance to not only wash my hair and body, but also clean my wounds, which still hurt a lot but were feeling better. My trousers and boots were still intact because the boots were made for riding, and were thigh-high, so they had stopped my trousers from getting shredded by the lash. Someone had got my weapons as well, obviously thinking them too nice to leave. They were nice. I had had them specially made for a high profile fight. With them around my waist and a borrowed shirt from one of the Knights I felt much better. I didn't feel sleepy in the least, so I went to join the Knights by the fire for a while.

As I approached, I could hear Bors boasting about how 'big' he was.

"..........no, really! It's like a baby's arm holding an apple!"

"I'm not surprised you can't piss straight if it's crooked in the middle," I said dryly from the edge of the circle. A joke which was greeted by many laughs.

"Do you mind if I join you?" I asked, unsure of myself.

"No, not at all. Come and sit over here," called Lancelot.

Everyone started to talk again, and all was going smoothly until...

"Ahrg!" I screamed, catapulting myself out of a sitting position. "You annoying arrogant manwhore!" I screeched. "What makes you think I'm going to let you touch me up?!"

"Well, what happened with Gawain would be pretty near the top of the list," he replied smugly.

"Nothing happened, and can you not keep your mouth shut!" I said, rounding on Bors. "For the last time _nothing happened_. Now I'm going to go and sit over here, where no one will try anything." I plonked myself down between Gawain, who was blushing but smirking at Lancelot being refused, and Dagonet who was just laughing along with everyone else.

"So...where are you from...?" asked Galahad.

"Here, originally. But my family were made slaves, so I grew up in Rome. When I was fourteen I became a Gladiator."

"Nonsense," scoffed Lancelot. "They don't take women for the arena."

"Oh, but they do, my dear. They're always trying new things, otherwise people get bored. Eventually, I won my freedom, so I came to see what my homeland looks like."

"Grey and cold," said Galahad miserably.

"It's not grey, its green," I said suprised and indignant "and the cold makes the air fresh which makes you feel alive. In Rome, its yellow and dusty, and the heat in the summer and the smell it causes are so overpowering that all the nobles leave. When it's cold you can wrap up, but when it's hot there's nothing you can do about it."

"So if you're a gladiator what were you doing in that dungeon?" queried Gawain.

"When I first came here I travelled around a lot, but then I saw Gwen one day in the forest practicing her sword fighting skills, and I went to teach her how to do it better. I ended up helping her and her family out, because they didn't have enough food to last out the winter. I was there when they took her, and I tried to stop them. I killed two, which only had the effect of pissing them off, so they dragged me in too."

I sighed and leaned back against the tree, eying the flagon Bors was holding. I wondered how these men's liquor intake measured up against the gladiators I had once drunk with and against.

"Can I have some of that, Bors?"

He passed it over willingly, and I looked at him mischievously over the rim. "Better idea. Why don't _I_ drink against _you_?"

Bors looked up again in surprise, and delight at the chance to show off how much he could drink.

"Even better," he grinned. "How about you drink against all of us?"

This was immediately greeted by loud assents - even from Tristan, who I didn't think would agree.

A while later, laughter and slurred singing drifted across the camp to where Guinevere was resting.

"...Even a snail if you slow to a crawl, but a hedgehog may never be buggered at all! Even a..........."

She shook her head, smiling to hear Jasmine's favourite drinking song. Jasmine hadn't even been out of bed a full day yet, and she had already got a large party of men drunk. Again.


	3. chapter three

Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, I'm really glad people are liking the story and I will try to stop changing the point of view. I'm not sure if I like this chapter but I'm going to post it anyway.

"COME ON! Gwen, you won't get good in bed you know," I said.

"Yes, but I might get some sleep," she mumbled. "I've been in a dungeon for two weeks, and you expect me to practice?"

"If you're not up in five minutes I'll come back with a bucket!"

Five minutes later I came back with a bucket, and ended up being chased all over camp.

Soon we got down to business, and went through a couple of swordplay forms before I began to teach Gwen some new moves.

"So how did the knights do last night? Up to your standard?" Gwen questioned later.

"No, but better than the men from your village. They're going to have a hard time getting up today," I replied, laughing.

"Whilst you look as fresh as a daisy. Like you always do."

Sure enough, over where they had passed out the night before, the Knights were beginning to wake up to find they all had splitting headaches.

"Oh, my head..." groaned Galahad. "Remind me never to do that again..."

"Did we beat her?" asked Bors groggily.

"Must have done," answered Lancelot unsurely.

"Where is she then?" asked Gawain.

"Firstly," moaned Tristan, "let's go stop the banging..."

The Knights stumbled off in the direction of the noise to find Gwen and I in the most graceful swordfight they had ever seen. As we circled each other I was surprised to see Gwen falter, and then burst out laughing. I turned to see what see was staring at, and grinned at the sight of my drinking partners clutching their heads in expressions of great pain.

"Well, my dears," I said, sheathing my sword as loudly as possible. "How are we feeling this morning? Not too good, by the looks of it?"

"How can you possibly be so fresh? You drank as much as we did last night..." mumbled Bors.

"More," I said cheerfully. "I won, remember?"

"No..." groaned Lancelot.

"Do I look like I lost?" I asked, still grinning.

I took pity on them after that, and made them breakfast, which made them feel a tad better. While I was handing out breakfast and drinks, Arthur came up and looked in surprise on his dishevelled knights.

"What happened to you?" he asked, shocked.

"Her!" Galahad said pointing.

"I didn't do it..." I said, trying to look innocent.

"Is that all you say to me?" Arthur asked amused.

"No, and it wasn't my fault. I never forced them to drink all that wine."

"Ah. So they're hung over."

"What did you think I did?" I asked, looking at him like he was simple. "Knock them out and drag them through bushes?"

"No, and from now on I'm not even going to try and guess what you have been doing with my men," he said, and wandered off, smiling bemusedly.

Soon the caravan moved off, and I now knew why we were moving so quickly. The Knights had told me last night about the Saxons, and I was now as eager as everyone else to be going as quickly as possible. While we were packing up ready to leave, I had the best surprise I could have ever hoped for. I found my horse Petro on a lead rope attached to one of the wagons, and screeched in delight. I ran up to him and threw my arms around his neck. I was told later they had taken all the horses so they could have as many people mounted as possible. He whuffled at me in surprise and delight, and went on to try and eat my hair. I giggled and detached him from the wagon, leading him over to a fallen tree to mount up. He had no saddle, but that was fine, as I preferred riding bareback.

In the early afternoon, Gawain came up to talk to me. I was riding Petro with Lucan, and another little girl sitting in front of me.

"Is that horse really yours?" he asked.

"Yeah. Isn't he pretty?"

Gawain laughed. "If you say so, though I'd say large would be the word that comes to mind."

"Yeah I know, but he's very gentle. Unless he's bored. And the fact he's quite round makes it harder to fall off."

"I suppose so," he said, still laughing. "So, who taught you to fight?"

"Well, I was a dancer in the circus before they decided to have female gladiators. Then we were taught the basics of fighting, and given a month to train for it. Me and the others, we sort of created our own fighting style. We were dancers so it is quite graceful, and we knew we would be up against people stronger than us so it involves a lot of ducking and dodging."

"Wow. So what's your favourite weapon?"

"Long sword. But I use knives as well." She stroked Petro's mane and ruffled Lucan's hair. "I've been teaching you to throw knives," she smiled. "Haven't I Lucan?"

"Yep!" he stated proudly. "But I'm not very good. I even hit Jasmine once..." he added guiltily.

"Yeah, he taught me a lesson about standing next to the targets!" she laughed.

"Can you teach me too, Jasmine?" inquired the little girl.

"Of course," she replied. "Now you two get down, because I think Petro might act up soon if he's bored. I don't want you to get hurt." Jasmine handed the girl down to a serf woman and gave Lucan to Dagonet.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later the up-till-then placid horse bucked, and reared, and bucked once more before charging up the line with Jasmine laughing on his back.

Later, when they had stopped and eaten, Dagonet said he wanted to look at Jasmine's wounds. She climbed into the wagon, before shucking out of her top and letting him unwind her bandages. He cleaned them again, but informed her that she was healing fast. He told her she should let them air for a while and then come back to have them re-bandaged.

Jasmine went over to one of the fires and sat by it, leaning against a convenient tree. She had borrowed a brush from Guinevere, and started to leisurely brush her hair with it, running it through her thick black locks. She started to murmur a song as she did so, singing to herself sleepily. The simple melodies of the song moved, mixing and weaving themselves together with the warm tongues of air created by the fire. The warmth and the song spread, forming a relaxed and comfortable circle around the fire. Tristan and Gawain came to stand on the edge of the firelight. They stared at her. With the firelight playing gently over her features, and her eyes half closed, she looked like cat about to purr. They came to sit near the fire and watched her, the rhythmic movements of her hands on her hair and the murmured song making them sleepy, so when she had finished and swept her hair back over her shoulder, they were already half asleep. She gestured at them with the brush and asked them if they would like their hair brushed. They murmured sleepy assents, and Gawain gestured at Tristan to go first. He moved over to her and she pulled his head down into her lap. She started to sing again, as she unbraided his hair and brushed it over her knees.

Arthur came up on his way to his bed, and looked on in amazement at this scene. In all the years they had been in Britain, he had never seen his men this relaxed in any but their own company. He supposed they had never had a chance to be.

When Tristan's hair was done, he moved off and went sleepily to his bed. Gawain moved to occupy his position, and Jasmine repeated the process, unbraiding his hair and brushing it till it fell thick and shining in her lap. His hair was unexpectedly soft in a sort of rugged animalistic way It took a lot longer than Tristan's had done because it was much longer, and by the time she returned to Dagonet he asked her where she had been.

"Brushing Tristan and Gawain's hair," she replied, yawning and moving towards the wagon to get re-bandaged. She left Dagonet and Galahad trying to pick their jaws up off the floor behind her.


End file.
